


pain au chocolat

by hobohodo



Category: Les Miserables
Genre: Baking, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 04:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3837958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobohodo/pseuds/hobohodo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac and Enjolras make Combeferre breakfast. They only destroy his kitchen twice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pain au chocolat

Combeferre walked into the kitchen. A moment passed. He adjusted his glasses, turned around, and walked out. 

“I can explain,” said Courfeyrac.

“Explain, then.”

“Well.”

“Well?”

“Well,” he started, “I didn’t think you’d let me. Um. Give me a moment.”

Combeferre stared straight at Courfeyrac. Nothing in his face betrayed his feelings. He hadn’t even blinked. Only patience, unending, spoke for him. Some moments passed, and then a bright. shining grin settled on Courfeyrac’s face.

“You see, I wanted to bake something.”

“That explains the flour. 

“It does.” Courfeyrac said, rubbing the back of his neck. “And, well. I can’t bake in my apartment. I don’t have any of these things. I have, erm, I have a skillet! I have a skillet, and a flippy thing--spatula, you know what I mean, and also, well. A microwave. That is all my culinary prowess can handle.”

Patience, unending. What a joke. Combeferre glanced at his clock. It was too early for this. “So you decided to use my kitchen.”

“Yes, exactly!” Courfeyrac nodded. “Except I didn’t know what I was doing, either. So I got Enjolras to help.”

“Because Enjolras is the epitome of culinary success?”

“Yes.”

Combeferre brought his fingers to the bridge of his glasses, pushing them closer to his face. “I’m sure. Carry on.”

“Well, no. Enjolras was already here. And he _decided_ to help.”

Combeferre blinked. Had Enjolras fallen asleep on his couch the previous night? He slipped in and out of Combeferre’s apartment as he pleased, often working late nights in his living room. It happened so often that it was no longer remarkable. “Where is he now?”

“Erm,” he said, letting out a little cough. “Dealing with your landlord before you wake up?”

Combeferre wrinkled his nose. Enjolras didn’t have to, he could have done it himself. Which was probably the precedent to ‘before you wake up.’ “Right. Why exactly does my landlord need to be dealt with?”

“So, after a few attempts, we managed to make acceptable dough,” Courfeyrac said, casually stretching the limits of the word acceptable, “we realized we didn’t take the chocolate from the refrigerator. It was a block of chocolate. It was too hard and too thick--hah--to break. So we decided to put it in the microwave.”

“Ah,”

“We came to realize that the chocolate was stored in tin foil?”

“So by coming to realize it, you mean you set my microwave on fire.”

“Pretty much.”

Combeferre sighed.  “Are either of you hurt?”

“Oh, no. Enjolras was pretty quick to unplug it, the fire extinguished by itself after a moment, and we took the chocolate out which did fall to the floor, but, well. We’re fine. Completely fine. Honestly, we’re really surprised, too.”

“I’m glad that neither of you are hurt,” he said. “What were you making? It might go smoother if you let me help you.”

“No!”

Of course, he reacted with a scowl.

“No, come on, you know it’s not like that.” he said, scratching the back of his head. “It’s just, I wanted to make something for you.”

“For me,” Combeferre said.

“Yes, for you.” Courfeyrac said. “So you’re not allowed to help me. You just go there and, and relax. I’m going to make you breakfast.” For a moment, there was silence. Combeferre opened his mouth to speak, and in panic, Courfeyrac shook his head, covering Combeferre’s mouth with his hand. “No. I’m not listening. What you say, what you think, what you feel, all of that matters to me, and I know that you know that, but right now I’m going to refuse to take no for an answer. Holy shit, you are probably the most amazing person I know. You deal with school, you are the backbone of the group and it couldn’t be so successful without you, and at the end of the day, you’re still the one dealing with all of our shit. Whether it’s me stubbing my toe or the entirety of Bossuet’s future career, you solve our problems like it’s yours. You would do anything short of murder for us, and hell, I’m not even sure about that. You deal with so much shit, ‘Ferre. You go to sleep at crazy hours without even having dinner, then wake up ungodly early and don’t eat breakfast, either. You care so much for us, but you rarely ever let us care for you. I just want to make you breakfast, just this one time. I want you to have a stress-free morning. And I know right now I’m sort of failing, but… but I swear, I’m going to make you the best pain au chocolat ever.”

When Courfeyrac finished speaking, Combeferre was smiling underneath his hand. He shook his head, placing his hand over Courfeyrac’s and removing it from his mouth.. “Okay.” He said, rubbing his eyes tiredly with his free hand. “Thank you.”

“Good.” He said, after a moment of contemplation. “Now sit down. I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”

Combeferre nodded. He dropped Courfeyrac’s hand, who promptly stepped aside. Still smiling widely, he let Combeferre step through, and then stepped into the kitchen again. If at any point in the morning the kitchen had been a mess, it was no longer anywhere near enough to describe it. The air smelt of burnt chocolate, backed up by the hardened splatter on the counter and the consequential drippings on the wall and floor. The apron that had been used to extinguish the fire lay on the counter, atop the fine layer of flour that had somehow managed to explode all over the island and the pantry door. The rest of the ingredients were splayed everywhere, no particular organization to their baking.

And now they were going to have to start over.

Courfeyrac whimpered, crossing his arms over the counter, leaning over and hiding his face in his arms.

***  

“You’re awake.”

At the sound of Enjolras’s voice, Courfeyrac forced himself to stand up straight. He had coffee to make. Even he couldn’t fuck that up.

“I am,” Combeferre said, opening his laptop, settling in the corner of his couch. “Don’t worry. Courfeyrac already filled me in.”

Enjolras paused. He looked at Combeferre, who seemed absorbed. “I want to apo--”

“You can do that later.” Combeferre said, meeting his gaze. “It’s fine. Honestly. You should go help Courfeyrac.”

There were a few moments of hesitation, compounding into a nod from Enjolras. Combeferre watched him disappear into the kitchen, and then returned to the news. The pixels on the screen registered as words, but he couldn’t comprehend any of them. He read the same sentence once, twice, six times, before deciding to move onto the next one, with just as much success, or lack thereof. Sure they were out of sight, he sighed, putting the laptop away. He removed his glasses, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

***   

Enjolras wrinkled his nose. “I dealt with the damages. The landlord seemed surprised, that out of everyone it was Combeferre’s apartment.”

“Of course. Combeferre never fucks up.”

Enjolras smirked. “That’s not true.”

“Well, no, of course it’s not. But you know what I mean.”

“I do. He fucks up gracefully.”

"Gracefully,” Courfeyrac grinned. “That’s right. That’s exactly it. He fucks up like he did it intentionally. Well, he doesn’t, but--you know. He admits it. He admits he fucked up but he fixes it so quickly, he threads it into his original plan like that was his plan all along. It’s kind of amazing to watch.”

Enjolras nodded. “But he wouldn’t set fire to his own microwave.”

“Hah. True.”

“But, yes. He’ll come over and check if the wires are damaged. The microwave is hopeless, though.”

“I’ll replace it.” Courfeyrac said, beaming at Enjolras. It was the least he could do, after all. “Ready to start again?”

They shared a look. A should-we-really-do-this-again look. Both of them knew it: pain au chocolat was cheap and delicious from any bakery anywhere in Paris. It would take less effort, less stress, and considering the microwave they had destroyed, cost less. Given all of that, well. They supposed they should keep it in mind for next time. They had already committed, after all.

“Of course. Let’s do this.”

***

_The domination of the public way in which things have been interpreted has--_

"It might burn! That’s good enough!”

_The domination of the public way--_

“Check,”

_\--in which things have been interpreted--_

“Check, check,”  

_\--has already decided upon even the possibilities of being attuned--_

“Check! Yeah. Just put the butter in.”

Combeferre closed the book. It was useless. He stood up, heading into the kitchen again. He leaned against the doorway, watching the two stare at the bowl. Both seemed to be too focused to notice he was there.

Enjolras stopped the stand mixer. “One fourth cup yeast,”

“Aye aye, captain.” He said, pouring the yeast into the appropriate measuring cup.

Combeferre raised an eyebrow. He held his tongue right until Courfeyrac was about to pour it into the batter. “You know you’re supposed to dissolve the yeast in water, right?”

Both boys looked up at him.

“Uh, duh. Of course I knew that.” Courfeyrac said, looking away from Combeferre to Enjolras. To him, he mouthed: ‘ _did you know that?_ ’

***

“HOLY SHIT!”

“What the hell?”

“Don’t come in here!”

“I’m coming in there. Is everything all right?!”

“Well, we’re fine, but--”

“I’m not sure how we’re still alive. Oh, holy fucking--”

“Um, um--”

“Why is my floor melting?”

“I didn’t know it would blow up. I mean, don’t they put this on bunsen burners and crap?”

“My floor is literally _melting_. Christ, get out. I’ll clean this--”

“No!”

“We’ll deal with this. Or, Courfeyrac will. I’ll talk to your landlord again.”

“No, let me--”

“No,” accompanied with Courfeyrac pushing Combeferre out of the room, carefully avoiding the Pyrex shards on the way to him. Combeferre resisted, of course, but there was an apologetic determination in Courfeyrac that led to him overpowering the man.

“Fucking--” Combeferre sighed. “Just leave it. Leave the goddamn chocolate to soften on the counter. Please.”

***

“It says we have to let it rest in the refrigerator for a minimum of two hours.”

“What? We can’t wait that long.”

“Freezer?”

“ _Do not do that!_ ”

***

There were two boys sleeping on Combeferre's couch. Combeferre had been relegated to a position in the side, pressed against the armrest. Enjolras leaned against him, body diagonal, while Courfeyrac slept on Enjolras’s lap, legs over the head of the couch. Not that he blamed them. They told Combeferre that from that point it was only a waiting game. Which, from his perspective, they had both lost.

“Honestly.” Combeferre said, putting his laptop down. He looked at the two, another sigh leaving his lips. He shook his head, stood up, and entered the kitchen. The dough seemed to have risen just fine. He put the gloves on and retrieved the tray from the refrigerator, brushing the egg wash over the top. He put it in the oven, and then looked around. His kitchen was spotless. Before passing out on his couch, the two had cleaned up and apart from the microwave and the dents on his linoleum floor, his kitchen was spotless.   

Enjolras and Courfeyrac meant well. And they did achieve their goal. Combeferre felt appreciated. Of course, he would also be lying if he said that it didn’t bring more stress than it took away. The end, he supposed, in this case, justified the means.

He filled the kettle with water and switched it on. This was the least he could do without. He chose a few fruits and placed them on the chopping board, momentarily basking in the silence as he pressed the knife into the fruits. Once done, he put them in a shining white bowl. In the middle of grinding beans, the kettle whistled. Combeferre shut it off, and then resumed.  Afterwards, the water went through the filter to be coffee in the carafe, which was distributed evenly in three mugs.

Some moments later, a ringing signalled Combeferre to the oven. He pulled the tray out, leaving it on the counter to cool. Combeferre had seen more attractive pain au chocolat in his time, but none had ever made him smile so wide.

Eventually, he brought it all into the living room.

“Good morning, little rays of sunshine.”

The two stirred. Courfeyrac shot up, squeaking. Enjolras took a few moments longer, yawning and stretching.

“First of all, I want to say thank you.” Combeferre said. “I appreciate you two doing this for me. And I’m excited to taste what you’ve made. Even if you did destroy my kitchen in the process.”

Courfeyrac nodded, rubbing his abdomen. “We’re really sorry about your kitchen. We’re going to buy you a new microwave."

"I’ve talked to your landlord twice today. We're very close now." Enjolras said, sighing, picking a banana from the fruit bowl. “He seems like a very nice person. He’ll check for any damage in the wall, the socket, but I’m fairly sure the floor means you’ll have to say goodbye to your security deposit.”

"Yes, and, holy shit. We promise never to touch your kitchen ever again. Goddamn. Next time we're going to buy you croissants from the bakery and watch morning cartoons. A real, legitimately stress-free breakfast."

"You better keep that promise." Combeferre said. "Now, enough of this. I’m starving."

Courfeyrac looked anxious. This showed through the widest grin he could muster. "Yes, please."

Somehow, a tension that knife could cut through slipped into the air. Combeferre fed on this, the smallest smirk slipping into his expression. He took a piece, taking a moment to look at Courfeyrac and Enjolras. Both looked exasperated, waiting for him to take a bite.

And then he did.

It wasn’t bad at all. It wasn’t even that his expectations were lowered, or that hunger was the best seasoning. It was not heaven sent, worship worthy pain au chocolat, but there was something about it that made it quite unlike any other. It was made by the two people that mattered most to him in the world.

(That was not to say that if they had bought him some from a bakery instead, he would not have appreciated it. He would. He would have loved it, and they would have had just as nice a breakfast. It didn’t matter. That wasn’t the point. The point was, they loved him, the determined little bastards, and right now, he could taste it thick on his tongue.)

“Would you think I was lying if I told you that was the best pain au chocolat I’ve ever had?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Courfeyrac grinned, taking one as well.

“But we’ll accept it.” Enjolras nodded. “And we only destroyed your kitchen twice.”

**Author's Note:**

> The book Combeferre was reading was Being and Time by Martin Heidegger. The prompt was 'Courf and Ferre and the sentence i saw yesterday “we only destroyed the kitchen twice.” Max. 1k.' I accidentally added Enjolras in and also accidentally went past 1000 words, but I hope I'll be forgiven on those parts. I hope you enjoyed reading this, and of course, CC is always welcome.


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